


Found Sleeping

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e04 Replacements, Fluff, Gen, Just Add Kittens, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: After Replacements, Bill and Johnny look for Bull.
Relationships: Bill Guarnere & Johnny Martin & Bull Randleman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Hold Me: A Comfort Prompfest





	Found Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sholio's: [Hold Me: a comfort promptfest](https://sholio.dreamwidth.org/1347813.html), which is still going strong, if anyone wants to prompt or fill fic involving comfort.
> 
> Prompt: "Any or original, covered in puppies or kittens."

"Where's the bull?" Bill asked. He plonked down to Johnny on the side of a railroad embankment, and watched his best friend think it over.

A man could usually find one of them by finding the other—Bull being the easier of the two to spot, Johnny to hear—and failing them being together, count on them knowing where the other was, so Bill was surprised when Johnny shook his head slightly.

"Aid station?"

"Nah, just came from there," Bill said. "Docs say he skipped out an hour ago."

"Course he did," Johnny grumbled, but not without fondness. "Didn't report to me."

They both looked at Lieutenant Peacock, sitting on a twisted remnant of blown rail and fussing with his bootlaces, a perfect target for any German sniper their sweeps hadn't picked up, and mutually concluded not to bother asking the officers.

"Your boys sacked out over there?" Bill pointed to a half-collapsed barn with a tilt of his head.

"I told 'em it was gonna fall on 'em, but then the lieutenant said it looked okay. Guess who they listened to." Johnny sent Peacock another sour look.

"Well, if you're looking for a hayseed," Bill said, and pushed himself up. He reached down to offer Johnny a hand, and was ignored, so he bumped their shoulders together instead. Johnny shot him a look, and Bill followed up by clapping his hand on the back of Johnny's neck and squeezing lightly.

Johnny didn't answer, but Bill saw him close his eyes for just a little longer than it took to blink. It had been a fucking shit show of a couple of days, even without spending most of the previous night thinking Bull was either dead or a PoW, and Bill knew that Johnny hadn't gotten much in the way of sleep. None of them had.

It wasn't that Bill didn't have enough to worry about with his own boys, but it seemed like someone had to look out for the other sergeants, too, and if Bill didn't, he didn't know who would. Bill gave the scrap of skin between Johnny's helmet and collar another squeeze before letting his hand drop.

Johnny didn't say anything to that, but sort of hummed low in his throat, and looked sideways at Bill for a second, corner of his mouth twitching up, which was about as good as it got with him.

The barn had taken a couple hits, and the roof was slumping badly, but otherwise it wasn't as bad as Johnny had made it sound. Inside, most of first platoon were sprawled across the floor, some on dismantled hay bales, others just flat on the floor or on top of other boys sleeping flat on the floor.

Bill's eyes followed Johnny's as he did a headcount, and knit his eyebrows together as his frown deepened. Bill didn't see Bull either, and didn't know where to look after this.

Hoobler was resting nearest to the door, half sitting with his arms wrapped around his M1 like it was a teddybear, helmet tipped forward to half-cover his eyes. Johnny kicked his ankle to wake him, and from the way he blinked up at them instead of starting, Bill guessed he hadn't really been out yet.

"Hoob!" Johnny demanded, then scowled when Hoobler put his finger to his lips. Still, he dropped his voice a fraction when he asked, "You see Randleman?"

Finger still to his lips, Hoobler pointed across the barn to the back corner, where a couple of the hay bales had survived the pillaging.

Bill squinted into the shadows, not able to see much past loose straw, but Johnny was already picking his way across the floor, mostly not tripping on the boys, so Bill rapped his knuckles on Hoobler's helmet and started to follow.

By the time he got back there, Bill's eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and he could make out a sizeable blanket-wrapped lump curled up in the middle of the hay. There weren't a lot of guys in the unit that size, and none of the others had curly blond hair like was poking out of one end of the bundle.

Bull lay with his back to them, his bad arm curled against his chest while his head rested on the crook of his good elbow, helmet and rifle set within reach. Someone had given him their blanket, as he had a couple draped over him.

The barn was filled with the sound of sleeping men, most of them grumbling, snoring or farting, but even so Bill could hear Johnny hold his breath as he watched Bull, studying him until the rise and fall of his back was clear enough to show he was breathing.

"See," Bill said, and Johnny nodded, letting out a long sigh. Neither of them were going to forget the previous night and the terror of not knowing, probably not as long as they lived, but for now the third of their little pack was sleeping peacefully, as safe as any of them could be. "You should sack out too, while we got the chance."

"I will in a minute," Johnny whispered back. Seemed like he wanted to just stand there and watch until he had the image properly in his head. Bill watched as something shifted in the set of Johnny's shoulders for the first time since they'd touched down. "In a minute," Johnny said again. Then scowled sharply.

Bill followed his gaze, and it took a minute to work out what was wrong.

Something inside the blankets was moving. It was down by Bull's ankle, just above where the toe of his boot poked out. At first Bill thought it was just Bull shifting in his sleep, but if it was, he'd grown an extra foot.

Johnny pulled his trench knife out of his belt and used the tip to flip the edge of the blanket back. "Oh, for crying out loud," he muttered.

Bill blinked at the wide green eyes staring back up at them. "What the..."

It was a scruffy orange kitten, just old enough to have its eyes open, but not yet steady on its feet. It brought its paw up to bat at the tip of Johnny's knife, and Johnny jerked it away so the little thing wouldn't cut itself. As he did, the guard snagged on the blanket, pulling the whole thing back off Bull's legs.

Bull grunted, and shifted in his sleep, and Johnny froze, glaring at the kitten like he dared it to move and wake Bull up.

It opened its mouth noiselessly, and put its front paws on the ankle of Bull's jump boot, almost managing to climb up before tumbling onto its back. Its tiny paws waved briefly in the air, and Johnny started to reach down to right it. Bill batted his hand away, and a moment later the kitten managed to catch its tail between its front paws and chewed fitfully on the end.

Bill was about to say something about the first kitten when a second poked its nose out from under a fold of the blanket, and started to toddle towards its sibling. It'd gotten about half way there when a long tawny leg reached out from under the blanket and hooked it back in.

The first kitten, either knowing what was good for it or having gotten hungry, flipped back onto its stomach and followed, disappearing into the cave made by the tuck of Bull's knees and the folds of olive drab wool.

Johnny glanced at Bill, who shrugged, and swept his hand to the side. Johnny nodded and inched the blanket back over Bull's knees, revealing the space against Bull's stomach. Five pairs of small green eyes and one pair of large green eyes stared up at Bill and Johnny. The queen cat hissed, low and menacing. Johnny dropped the blanket back into place.

"I wouldn't try move her," Bill whispered, and got one of Johnny's "No shit!" looks. Bill wondered if they should worry about Bull rolling onto his stomach and squishing them all, but he didn't think Bull would shift much with his bad shoulder. "Guess she wanted somewhere warm, huh?"

"Yeah." Johnny looked down at Bull and his nest of kittens with a more gentle expression than Bill had seen since Johnny and Pat's wedding day. "Know how she feels."

"You better get some shut eye," Bill told him. When Johnny stayed fixed in place, Bill reached over and lifted his rifle sling off his shoulder. "Come on. They'll have us on the road again soon."

"Fine, all right." Johnny took the M1 back from Bill and leaned it against the hay bale before slumping down with his back to it and his legs stretched out in front of him. He folded his arms across his chest, and tipped his head back so that the back of his helmet rested on the curve of Bull's back, moving slightly with each of Bull's breaths.

Bill stood there watching until Johnny's face smoothed into sleep. He shed ten years when he was conked out like that, and Bill wished he saw it more often.

Unable to help himself, Bill reached down and put his hand on top of the blanket where it draped over Bull's knees. He drummed his fingers lightly, and felt a small pressure in return: a tiny paw batting at his fingers through the wool. Bill drew his hand back, brushing over Bull's hip and pausing for a moment to soak in how warm and solid and alive he was.

Then he straightened and stepped away, leaving his friends to sleep while they could.


End file.
